


Replaceable

by Paynes_Grey



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Dissociation, Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 12:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16284902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paynes_Grey/pseuds/Paynes_Grey
Summary: After Rick accidentally nukes their world, he moves him and Morty to the next similar dimension. All they have to do is bury their old bodies and return to their old lives. Easy enough. For Rick.





	Replaceable

Some days I'm made of metal, I can't be broken; but not when I'm with you.

  
  


Two pairs of feet step out of a vortex of green, limbs seemingly moving of their own preprogrammed notions. And it isn’t the usual Rick and Morty coming back from an adventure exhausted or excited type of coming home, no. No, he's burying his body in his family's backyard; alongside his Grandfather.

He's _dead_ . Well, not _him_ him. But he looks like him, cause he kind of _is him,_ just isn’t. Morty brain is nearly fried staring at this dead body in the same outfit he was currently wearing. He’s dead. The him who lives.. lived,. here.. in his house, no, now _his_ house.. _?_ He resides here- not the he who had lived here 17 of his own years. With _his_ sister. 17 years of memories with these parents who look and seem and act identical in (nearly?) every indistinguishable detail as his own, alongside every small feature of his other house, it’s all mostly the same. His living room with the chairs tilted and angled in the same spaces. Summer in her same pink top and orange ponytail texting the same boy.

 

This was his exact life. Except, that it wasn't.

 

He just stepped away from his now past life, his whole world gone in a blink of green swirls. He blinks, keeps blinking, trying to keep up with how sluggish his mental motor seems to be processing. In fact, how it seemingly has just stopped altogether.

His eyes feel weighed as they slide through thick air to stop on Rick who has taken to the couch to watch interdimensional cable beside Summer with his customary flask in hand, arm slung across the couch rim, feet crossed, propped up upon the coffee table. Casual. _Casual._

Morty’s body moves on its own. Instead of a normal boring walkthrough of his house, it’s almost as if though his view is moving frame-by-frame, as if his visuals were a choppy, low-budget independent motion-picture film, filmed with a camera with fractures across its lens.

His feet are moving, touching and climbing stair by stair, but he feels nothing. Like they were filled with cotton, and not flesh, blood, and bone. Hell, maybe they _were_ filled with cotton. It’s not that anything made much of whatever the fuck _sense_ was anymore.

He makes it to his room and closes the door softly. He doesn’t know what time it is, just hours ago he would’ve looked- but now he couldn’t be bothered. He would be bothered, if the concept of time wasn’t so, completely intangible. Unimportant. An illusion.  Like. His. Life.

He falls onto his old bed, _his new bed_ , if he were to turn and look down and out the window to his left, it would be _his_ bed. He still feels like a teddy bear, made entirely of cotton in a thin coat to hold it all in. His eyes stare at a fixed point of the room, but nothing seems to be in focus. His mind stalled since the moment he came through into that garage, and it won’t kick-start. His heart that usually beats with such intense anxiety it rages hard against his rib-cage and into his eardrums- has been eerily silent. For once in (his) life. He free-falls limp against the tops of his blankets, eyes unmoving, unblinking, and waits for nothing in particular. Just waits.

Eventually the sun streams through the window, and Morty couldn’t be sure if it woke him _up,_ or just out of the trance he’s been in since that last warp through one of Rick’s portals. He breathes in through his nose and gets ready to walk downstairs to join the family. He doesn’t have much to do, just needs _(needs!_ ) to change his clothes. He opens a dresser drawer, not surprised in his findings of the other Morty categorizing his clothes in an nearly identical fashion to his own preferences. Morty’s face contorts in a cringe at all the brightness of his alternates vibrant, cheery, summer-y section of shirts and it makes his stomach roll. He reaches in the back of the closet to find something different. (He) this universe (he) needs _some_ thing different. Or else it’s just all too much _the same._ He doesn’t know which would be better or worse, if it was or wasn’t exactly similar, but for now- he _definitely_ feels he needs to fit more out-of-place (to fit in-place with his mindset.) So he’s tossed on a black shirt with a white band logo on it, and a pair of dark red skinny jeans he’d bought, ( _he’d bought,)_ during his ( _his_ ) (their?) emo-esque Linkin Park phase.

He proceeds downstairs, just yesterday he would have been beaming to see Rick, to see what the other man had to say this morning- since he _craved_ his attention and since Rick’s stories or day-plans were always something inevitably enticing and wild and Morty always wanted to get sucked into them so badly- but- today he pulls back a chair, not _his chair,_ but takes his fath- Jerry’s- spot instead. Since anybody else would throw a hissy fit. Jerry would, too- but he was the weakest link.

The family all begins to get settled around the table holding plates of breakfast items, Summer looks him up and down and mutters a, “dang, Morty; throwback Thursday,” at his outfit choice. Jerry comes in then, and is almost the last to, apart from Rick himself, with his ipad with that idiotic balloon popping game loaded up, almost running into Morty before realizing that his so- that Morty was seated there in his stead, which is when Rick makes his daily debut as he saunters in and towards his designated spot at the family table.

“H-hey, son. What’re you in _my_ seat for? Where am I gunna sit if you’re in my seat?”

Morty just sighs nonchalantly, barely noticeable, as Rick pulls back his chair to situate himself in. “S-simple solution, actually; j-ust sit in another seat today.” He responds blandly, reaching up and over the table to scoop himself some scrambled eggs.

“B-but _why_ when _that’s my_ seat?” He whines as Morty begins pouring milk.

“Because I’m in it, Jerr-“ He sighs, he couldn’t call him _Dad,_ he just _couldn’t._ Rick promptly ignores the slip, knowing Morty’s just going through his own adjustment period. I mean, Linkin Park, Morty? “B-because I’m in it, and it’s time to sit down and eat, so s-sit down and eat already.” He sits down after pouring himself some milk and begins to slowly eat how he assumes a robot would. Though even Morty-Bot would have more enthusiasm and spunk as a machine than he did right now as a hum- as a... nobody. In his daze he mutters a thought aloud to himself. “You- you have one of those, ya’know. Why d-did you even bother bringing _me_ at all?” He chews around some bacon. “Oh, right. Brainwaves.” He rolls his eyes as his family looks at him for a second and decides to move forward with their meal, Jerry poutingly plopping down in old Morty’s old chair.

“Soo,” Beth begins, picking up Morty’s slack. “Any _grand_ adventures today, Dad?” She asks, hopeful. Morty snorts, though he isn’t consciously entirely sure why, he still bets it’s earned.  

Rick ignores him, honestly nothing out of the ordinary. “N-no, sweetie. I-I’m giving Morty his day at shitty, shitty stupid school today.” Morty scoffs lightly. Rick had decided it would be best to throw the kid directly into some normalcy to get his mind back on kilter. Which in Morty’s life was either a boring monotonous day at his idiot school, or a high-risk dangerous adventure with Rick himself. He’ll probably just do both though, wait until Morty’s out of school. Or, if he gets too restless, just pull him out of it. Normal, normal. Definitely a good choice of action with Morty being, already being salty this morning. It should be good for him, and then they can just pick up where they left off.

The comment about school sours Morty’s mood enough to sour his food as he pushes it away with slight annoyance of Rick’s nonchalance. How was he acting so goddamn fine? So unbothered, so- _innocent._ This had no effect on him, is that it? Leaving his family and world behind was just another _day_ for Rick Sanchez? The ass was probably trying to ditch him with the whole school comment so he didn’t and wouldn’t have to deal with him, or have him get in his way while he went out and scored and snorted some Kalaxian Crystals, or get shit-faced without the hindrance or interference of a sour Morty.

But Morty wasn’t going to school. Ever again, in fact. The place held no value to him now. Really, nothing _did_ that he could wrap his head around. _Except_ maybe a high-risk dangerous adventure with Rick. That seemed the most normal and up his alley. Since _that_ school, _this_ house, _these_ people- weren’t really much of anything to _him._ Rick, though, he held a small amount of value. He was mostly always the same regardless. Rick, he could fall back in line with and deal with. If nothing else, Rick had something to _do,_ so he would proceed to accomplish _something_ with his life besides sit around and wait to decay. And suddenly, he thinks he understands a Rick’s mindset a little better.

This is what the whole multiverse was to them, (the Rick's.) Nothing anybody did really meant anything, and to survive, you just kinda skirted around that fact with expensive mind-altering drugs, sex, and high-risk adventures that used and abused any code of morality or ethics- that warped the lines of safety into a game of hopscotch. And all for sake of clinging to what was left-over of your sanity. And just pretend that none of it bothered you, or bothers you. Morty kinda always _knew_ Rick’s code, believed quite a bit of it himself, or feigned to, just so he could be more like Rick- but now, he really just might be- because now, he kinda _gets it._

Around twenty minutes pass and the breakfast table is cleared, Rick’s back in the garage, slumped over his newest gadget that he’s trying to come up with. Beth is at work; Jerry, too. Summer and Morty are at school, so the empty quiet of the garage resonates with the house as well. Well, until the doorknob to the garage shifts with a small _click,_ and opens. Rick doesn’t bother to turn away from his gadget as he tightens a screw.

“M- _ourg-_ ty.” He acknowledges with a burp.

The younger boy seeminging disinterested, slowly swipes a finger along the surface of anything he passes on his right. “Hey, _Grand.pa. Rick.”_ He quipes, dripping with sarcastic undertones as he props himself up on the washer behind Rick and his gadget.

Rick huffs and spins slightly on his swivel chair as he props his flasked hand over the back of it. “W-w-why are you putting verbal q- _ough-_ tations around my name? Y-y-you think _I’m,_ _not real,_ or-or something?”

Morty seemingly uninterested in Rick’s direct question, slowly sways his legs back and forth, up and down, giving Rick some attention but not much as his eyes glance his direction blandly with a blunt and basically bored, “W-would it even matter?”

He has him there, he guesses, as he takes another pull from his flask. Pauses for a moment after, and extends it to Morty who, after processing for a second, hums quietly and actually grabs the flask from him, taking a long pull as well; his top lip crinkles in a softly disguised disgust as he hands it back to Rick who suppresses a smirk. “ _T-that’s_ real, Morty. Get’ja, that’ll get’ja _real_ fucked up, Morty. Good enough for your liiittle brain to _comprender_?” He finishes in Spanish.

Morty stays silent. The alcohol almost immediately burns down his throat, whatever high-potency alien stuff is even _in_ that thing bubbles in Morty’s stomach in a pleasantly hot and spicy way, distorting his reality slightly. He doesn’t mind it much; in fact, he kinda wants another.

Rick picks up the flask and conversation shortly after their mutual pause and appreciation of alien alcohol in their systems. “Missing school, heh? Thought you had a real, a real hard-on for that shit-shitty place.”

Morty’s smile is anything but genuine as he replies. “What’s the point, Rick?” he drawls blankly. “Isn’t- isn’t that what you’ve always taught me, anyways? Don’t backtrack now, now that I actually agree with you on something fundamental.”

Rick gives the air an almost nonexistent nod back before answering. “F-finally, fuck. Now we can move on to our actual _lives,_ Morty.” He thinks on it for a second. “You, ahh, we gotta fix your attendance and report card s-so your Mom won’t freak out- she’ll freak out on us, _Mor-_ ty.” He punctuates with a belch.

“We won’t have to do all that, Rick. I just sent Morty Bot 4-6-P.” He says casually and shrugs. “He- he _acts_ better than me anyways.” He says conversationally as Rick raises one half of his eyebrow.

“Good- good point there, Morty. The student becomes the teacher.” Rick doesn’t mention Morty’s behaviour, doesn’t have to, he knows after an adventure or two the kid will snap out of it. He knows _he_ doesn’t really give a shit and doesn’t let this kinda thing bother him- switching dimensions- and maybe it did affect him somewhere deep, _deep_ , down, but, who knows? He’s got more than enough distractions to keep him from ever finding the time to actually process a thing like that, or to give any fraction of a shit. Morty, though, he gets. He could see that reality weighing down on the kid, but he needs to get over it. There’s really no other way about it. He looks at Morty for a second in his band-T and jeans and his eyes open slightly more. “ _Oh, God_ that doesn’t exist, d-did I re-initiate your teenage emo-phase, Morty? You- you’re- really gunna be like this _all day?_ By the way, nice- nice red skinnies there, Brendon Urie. You, you gunna sing us a song about moping and depression there, ya real- you’re a real _Gerard Way_ there, My Chemical Romance. You gunna write some poetry today, too?”

That elected a small smirk and eyes cast towards Rick’s direction. “Are, are _you_ gunna shut the fuck up anytime soon and take us somewhere already- _Rick.?”_ Morty punctuates back with a newfound boldness to his bite. A wild smirk crosses the scientists lips as he reaches out to his left without looking as slender fingers wrap around his portal gun.

“T-Thought you’d never ask; you punk ass little bitch. Let’s get Rick- _roll_ in!”

“And _I’m_ the one being targeted today for _my_ stupidness.” He quipes, and Rick’s up from the workbench as Morty is from the washer as they fall back into their familiar line and dynamic, side-by-side through the open whirling splashes of greenery that Rick shoots out in the middle of the garage, that shit-eating grin still spread across his pale face.

 

“Day’s n-n _ought_ over yet.” He winks.

  
  


It’s been around 5 or 6 hours, give or take, after they’d stepped out of their last portal, both were now waiting on the final delivery guy to buy some Rick-made weapons in exchange for some sort of thing Rick thought he needed, and Morty was bored; idly walking back and forth with hands clasped behind his back, not bothering to peer up as the other alien’s spacecraft finally made an appearance. Rick walked over to finish their deal which he and Rick had went on two high-speed chases for, three _on foot_ chases, _two_ gun fights scraping by by the skin of their teeth, and finally posing as two alien doctors to acquire whatever the hell the thing _was_ that they even acquired to make the weapon for the trade. Sure Rick had told him, a few times, but he either didn’t care enough to listen, or care enough to remember, whichever really. Rick told him a lot of things today, the man never shuts up about all sorts of things when they’re doing them because the narcissist craves and jumps on bragging rights regarding his genius skills and cunning dexterity at _all_ and any given chances presentable.

 

Morty takes in the scenery and can barely make out the other two’s voices as he wanders away. The meet-up spot was up on a very high-up cliff of Protolbien 7’s fourth moon. The grass was a soft pink, and Morty was standing near the edge of its precipice, watching the mixtures of purples and green wash over the side of the cliff in its seemingly watercolored waterfall. It was a beautiful and serene sight for sure, but not what captured Morty’s attention. More-so the impressive _height_ and drop of the cliff they were on. The ground below seemed hundreds, if not more, feet away. He was simply and numbly imagining falling forward through wisps of cloud and air until he hit the ground flat, his foot picks up off the grass and begins wavering over and back, over and back, across the edge of imprisonment and freedom. Just pondering, nothing more. Just, imagining. . would it feel all the same as he felt now? Nothingness? “Hm.” He hums to himself.

He vaguely hears a voice around his shoulders, not sure how long it had been making any sort of noise, he planted his right foot back down on the grass before turning towards Rick, who was looking at him with an almost barely-there exasperation set to his otherwise bored and content features.

“ _Morty,_ you piece of _s-sheeet,_ I’ve been calling your name, let’s get going.” He jerks his head towards the spaceship as Morty finds his feet obeying. As he walks past Rick, Rick turns and walks beside him in silence for a little awhile before, “y-you know you can’t _fly,_ right? Like-like I’ve taught you _that_ m- _urch_ \- at least, right?” Rick says in,- well,- Morty isn’t _sure_ what and _how_ that was meant to taken, but it gets under his skin nonetheless.

“That- that wasn’t what I- I was _doing, Rick.”_ He spits the name sharply.

“O-oh, yeah? Weren’t _pondering_ how many feet till the bottom, _Morty.”_ He says, posing it as a statement, not a question, thinking he knows _everything._ But he doesn’t; Morty feels inclined to tell him that.  

“Y-y-you know, you _don’t_ know every-thing, R-Rick.”

“Hm. Must be right, Morty, must be right cause, that was something I-I didn’t know.” He says, like a self-assured asshole.

Morty rolls his eyes and stops walking as they reached the front of the ship. He crosses his arms. “For your information, _dick,_ I was practicing conquering my fears. So I can be more, more confident and in control.” Rick makes a sort of humming noise which Morty doesn’t know if it’s an acknowledgment towards what he said, or a dismissal. He starts feeling heat creep up his neck.

“Alright, kid. Get in the ship, let’s, let’s get the _ffrck_ outta here and do something else, I’m bored of this.”

Morty’s heart lurches in his chest. “Bored of, of _what, exactly?”_ Morty feels inclined to ask as Rick seems to let out a frustrated _huff_ of breath.

“Y-you bein a little brat today, Morty.” He replies like _he’s_ got something to be tired of. Morty laughs, sharp.

“ _Ooh._ Oh, yeah, Rick, I see. Poor old, Rick. Old man Rick is _bored_ of his grandson’s worsening mental state. Oh poor _you._ P-poor _Rick_ who- who fucked up his own world so bad we had to move _fucking, dementions.!”_ He spat, seeing Rick becoming livid at his pointed skepticism and utter defiance.  

Rick rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a fuckin drama queen. Dimensions are like, like off-brand cereals, Morty. T-they’re not the same, but, they're close enough not to elicit any fuckin problems or hissy-fits over.” He says as his own special off-brand of what’s supposed to be nurturing wisdom. “Everything is the same here as it was there, Morty. I’m- I’m trying to be, I’m trying to _help_ you through this shit, ya’know? Takin you on adventures and-”

“ _Oh,_ the adventures are the _favor_ , to _me._ W-wow, Rick, didn’t _see_ it that way, jeez. Had it- had it wrong the whole time. I’m just _over_ joyed at gettin, _whatever it is_ we almost died for over in that suitcase, Rick. Ahh, jeez, thank you for your commitment towards helping me.”

Rick’s brow furrowed, really starting to become irritated. Just like Morty wanted. Too easy. “ _Morty.”_ He snapped warningly. “Get in the ship.”

“Oh, arguments done and over with, folks; cause, cause _Rick_ is the one getting upset!”

“Swear to God, Morty.” Rick clenches his fist and Morty takes a daring step forward towards it.

“W-what? What is _Rick Sanchez God all of creation_ gunna do? He can’t even get his 17 year old grandson in the gotdamn, goddamn ship. Huh? You can move through space through a matter in which you yourself created but can’t, can’t have a conversation with your grandkid. All powerful.” He huffs sarcastically, purposefully prodding the scientist in every way he’s _learned_ how. Something he’s picked up on during these travels. He doesn’t know why he’s instigating besides wanting to make Rick suffer in any way, the way that he seemingly _isn’t._ The way _Morty_ , _is._

This time Rick took the step forward, now they were close and the air was heavy with stress and static between them. “Morty, I was letting you be a little bitch _all day,_ but this is where I’m drawing the line. Get, in, that fucking _ship, Morty.”_

Morty, arms crossed stubbornly, locks them tightly, eyes Rick with all the air of a fucking toddler whose about to say, “No.”

Rick snaps and in a sudden move, cocks a fist back and watches Morty’s reaction as the boy flinches out of reflex, out of muscle memory- which would have also triggered his safety responses to stop the incoming threat, but, his hands never came up to block. His head didn’t duck to avoid, and his body hadn’t moved to dodge. A very, deliberate, _manipulated_ move.

Rick bites down on his lip and nearly growls. “Get. in. the. ship.”

 _“Wh.eye.”_ Morty fires back. _“_ What in the _literal,_ metaphysical, or ever _-_ loving _fuck_ is the point of following a man who doesn’t feel emotions for anybody or any _thing_ , but himself, _Rick!?”_

Rick’s temper finally blew and boiled over. “Fuck, I’m done with _this_ shit right now you little twit. Y-you want me to leave you here _? Huh?_ Is _that_ what you fucking _want, Morty?!_ You- you’ve got a point you’re so desprate to fuckin prove, fine then, _fuck_ in _prove it.!_ ” Rick hisses fumes. He gets in and slams the door to his spaceship hard, then starts the engine. The kid needed to learn a goddamn lesson. If he wouldn't listen to reason, he’d leave him alone long enough to fucking _find_ one. The engine roared to life and lifted into space with zero hesitation as it veered harshly to the left and sped off into space. 

 

It seemed all of Morty’s limbs stopped supporting him at once as he fell sluggishly to the ground like he was boneless. He sat, legs to either side of him and stared at nothing for awhile like it was the only thing he was capable of doing at the moment. Rick would return soon enough, he thought, as he slowly started moving his hand towards the pack he had around his back. He would come back, he couldn’t stay away long without the comfort found from Morty. Morty reached into his throw-over bag and pulled out Rick’s flask. No, he’d come back for this.

  
  


So the kid was becoming a hard-headed little hot-head like his Grandfather, that’s _great._ Rick clenched the steering wheel. Though _Rick_ didn’t throw hissy-fits over things so miniscule, whatever. The kid just needs time, that’s all. But fuck-all if Rick is gunna, gunna sit there with him and let him rampage like a child. He’s not a child. Well-, _no. No Sanchez, he’s a goddamn, nearly a goddamn adult now._ To planetary mindsets, anyhow.

No, _his_ Morty should be better than this, he’s not some dumb _regular_ 17 year old who goes to idiot school to “excel” onto shit-brain idiot college- _his_ grandson could fly a fuckin spaceship, set coordinates and portal to different planets and dimensions, shoot intergalactic federation asshats through their domes! He promptly stomps down the proud smile that’s found its way onto his otherwise dormantly aggravated face. The kid could smuggle goods, slip lie detectors and gunfire and zip ties and handcuffs, _leave his original world behind to elope on a eerily similar planet that’s not his own. ._

Rick sighs and stops his ship in the vastness of space. He wasn’t far from where he left Morty, he wasn’t actually gunna leave him there for long, though he threatens him with things like such on the regular.

Rick Sanchez _wasn’t sentimental…_ he was- possessive over his belongings, that’s all. He still showed when Morty left him during _Roy_ to save that fart, he still came through when Morty asked him for a gadget for this thing or that, he would goddamn _risk his life_ if it meant Morty got to get home safely..

Of course he’d go back for the kid. He sighs and reaches into his lab coat pocket to retrieve his flask, his eyebrow crunching in confusion before narrowing. Little shit.

  
  


The spaceship landed and Rick didn’t bother to get out, Morty slowly walked over and got in, clicked in his seatbelt and Rick flew back off. After a minute of silence Rick extended an open right hand towards Morty, still looking straight ahead as a small sigh escaped through the boys nose as he slipped the flask into the open palm. Rick took a generous helping of it, or what was left..

He finally slips his eyes to his right to see the kid after that, slightly trembling, seemingly unsteady, glossy eyes, a mixture of sadness and intoxication. Rick breathes out. At least this conversation would be easier now. It always _is_ with alcohol.

Rick clears his throat. “L-look, Morty. I didn’t come back for the stupid flask, if- if that’s what your mindset’s about.” He states stubbornly, continuing at the silence from the other end. God, kid should drink more if he bitches this much less; Rick’s temper huffs. He shakes his head. “L-l-look, Morty, I _know_ I’m not- I’m not the _best_ at these types of things..”

“Feelings..?” Morty mumbles.

Rick rolls his eyes. “Y-yeah, whatever. But, I’m sorry for tough-lovin you when- when it came to uh, switching dimensions, but-but-” He quickly adds in his defence, “I’m usually right when I say it’s better not to think about it.” He takes another pull and Morty reaches his hand out towards it but Rick just laughs. “Oh, no, Jack Sparrow. You’ve hit this baby en- _oughf_ for one planet visit. You look _wrecked,_ M- _ourghty!”_ He belches, taking another gulp himself.

“Nn, not _wrecked, Rick._ Just-just my feelings..” Rick nearly chokes as he chuckles, earning a hard glare from his intoxicated traveling companion. “N-not funny, Rick.” He hiccups as a tear slides down his cheek. Rick takes in a hard breath through his nose.

“No; I know. I know, Morty. I’m,” he breathes out through his nose now. _God, Sanchez; get your shit together; he’s an intoxicated 17 year old, you can do this._ “Morty, I’ve been too hard on you about this, I realize.. I thought it- would be better for you to deal with it my way.. Just, not think about it. It’s works on the ones who know how to use it, and- and maybe I still don’t do it well.. I think you could do it well- better than me. I, I think it’s the truth of the world, Morty.. You gotta move on, and sometimes that means, not thinking about it, not looking back.”

Morty grumbles something as more tears slide down. “A-a-and that just _works_ for you, huh? _That_ why it was so damn _easy_ to leave your family, that’s why it _still is?”_

Goddamn kid was still good at his shit when he was drunk. “Morty,-” Rick began as he collected himself, God he was really going there. “I- I never said it was easy.” He finishes, defeated. Morty was startled for a moment at the confession, that Rick _had emotions._ But then Morty nearly scoffed.

“H-hard to believe that one, Rick.”

“I could ima- _gine.”_ He burps. “I keep a real- a real tight lock-down on my shit, Morty. Cause- cause I can’t stop and sit in shit- cause then shit starts to sink; get- get it, Morty?” He hopes, still driving and looking straight ahead. He thinks he hears Morty sniffling. Rick rubs a hand down his exasperated face. He was really doing this. Goddamn it, Morty.. “-I think I went about it like you would heal the Rick way when, I should’ve let you heal the Morty way.. if it’s, any consolation prize in your little-” _game of shit;_ he wanted to say, but willed himself to reel back, if just a little, just this once. Maybe eyeing the kid eyeing the cliff, coupled with his drinking today, was a start of one of those things Rick decidedly _didn’t think about._ But knows he has to, knows what would become of that kind of thinking and behaviour if not checked and nipped in the bud. Not his Morty. No. Morty would be better than him. “If it’s any consolation, Morty.. I would never leave you behind..” This seemed to spark something in the kid as he finally began to look a little sobered up, just a little, as he looked at Rick.

“Y-yeah, Rick.?” He says, opening up a little.

“Yeah, Morty.. Rick and Morty a- a hundred years, remember?” Morty chuckles softly. “Morty, you- I can’t lose you.. okay, Morty?”

Lack of sentiment aside, Morty was quick to bite. “Because your human cloaking device would be gone? You’ve- you’ve got a replacement Morty card still, remember?” Rick wants to scoff at the kid’s stubbornness in not believing him, but he really can’t blame him. He wants Morty to trust him explicitly, but no one should trust Rick Sanchez, really. He was just testing Rick’s resolve to see if he’d take his words back, or keep to them. Manipulating sentence structures to curve to his favor. To ask directly for what he was angling for without really _asking,_ to prove in absolute, his point; just like when he tried to get Rick to punch him earlier on Protolbien 7. Clever kid. Rick wants to both scowl and smirk.

“ _No,_ Morty; ya-ya little shit.” He says, but unwilling to let the conversation veer counterproductively adds, “I can’t lose you, Morty, because- then I lose a piece of myself.” He forces out, it’s as much fun a task as swallowing _glass._ No. Swallowing glass would be _much_ less painful right now than swallowing his pride. He stops the ship to idle in the vastness of open space, finally turning to Morty who’s looking anywhere but. “The piece of me that has any real value.. The one that keeps me-” he breathes, “Me..” He says with a wince.

“W-wh- how do you mean.?” Morty asks, finally turning to look at Rick, arms still crossed defensively, but considerably more slack.

“Morty, you keep me in check, okay? If you weren’t around.. If you weren’t _you,_ my Mortiest, Morty, Morty- I would be, unhinged. I’I’d be an unhinged, Rick, Morty. A-a-and then I wouldn’t be the Rickest, Rick. I-’d be less in control of shit. I need _you,_ kid. Not another Morty, _this… my…_ Morty, okay?”

“O-okay, Rick.” The kid’s agreement is sincere, Rick can tell, and he blows out a long stream of relieved and grateful breath as he plops down dramatically in his seat, long arms slack at his sides, head tipped back like he’s just finished a ten mile marathon run.

“Thank- thank _fuck,_ Morty; ripping my _teeth_ out sounds like a lot more fun than sharing feelings. Are- are you fully _satisfied_ ya- ya little shit?” Rick picks on him and Morty can’t help but grin.

“M-maybe, almost.” Rick _groans._ “I think I’ll forgive you, if you- if you do me one thing..”

“ _Uggh_ you get-off on torturing me, Morty? Is that it?” Rick sighs, but it’s resigned. “F-fine, Morty.. What is it?”

“A whole day at- at _Blips_ and _Chitz mothah-fuckah!”_ Morty says in an impressively well-done mimic of Rick’s voice as they both break out in a burst of laughter, releasing loads of stress from more than just what was going on between them.  

“Member- member when you were all being a bitch earlier, Morty, about-about- all melodramatic about _dying for whatever was in this suitcase,_ Morty?” Rick mimics in a mock version of Morty’s earlier argument with the man, reaching behind his seat and hauling the black suitcase around it and places it on his lap.

“Y-yeah, Rick. I remember.” He rolls his eyes as Rick begins to pop the suitcase open.

“Well, _here’s_ what we almost died over, Morty, you punk ass trick.”

He pops the top open to reveal rows of gold Blips and Chitz pieces lined up like poker chips. Morty’s eyes shine like glass as he glances over them and beams back up at Rick with a genuine smile that Rick _will never admit,_ he missed, and was glad to see back on the kid’s face, but that curved smirk drops into a very serious line when Morty has the _guts_ to even say, “I’m gunna beat your points _hands-down_ on _Roy_ this time, _bitch.”_

“ _Oh, Morty.._ Morty, Morty, Morty. Them’s- them’s fuckin fightin words, son! You better- better be able to back up that claim to game, _boi~!”_ Ricks grin is wild as they shoot off back into space, both a little drunk, and both with smiles still plastered on their faces.

Rick reaches out and lovingly- _playfully-_ (lovingly) ruffles Morty’s hair and takes off at near hyper-speed as Morty's forcefully jostled back against his seat with a rupture of giggles and more of an understanding of how _his_ Rick Sanchez operated. He _did care,_ he just would rather swallow _glass_ then admit it.  Morty smiles. _And he still did._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I wanted to add a lot more (descriptively depressing) content, but figured it'd go best in another fic completely- so stay tuned!  
> Also, also, I HAD to write in the fact that I LOVE Linkin Park as one of my top favorite bands, I know it kinda sounds like I'm throwing them under the bus- BUT-but- I just wanted to pay homage and throw in the cameo. The only reason the family finds it odd is because it's Morty wearing it, which has been shoved in the back of his otherwise cheery looking wardrobe for the past- however long.  
> Thanks again, and leave a kudos if you'd like! :) 
> 
> Love, your friendly Archive fic author~ Grey


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